Дэймон Найт - Orbit 13

“It ain’t the Ritz, kiddo, but it’s hot. Eat it while I go wash up. Haven’t had much of an excuse till you came by. It’s good to feel...civilized for a change.”

“But—”

“Eat! I’ve already had some. Couldn’t eat a drop more.”

She knew he was lying, but didn’t protest. Cautiously she spooned the liquid into her mouth, holding her stomach and praying.

When she finished, they climbed back to the boardwalk, peering through the shadows at the times they had had when the sun was warm and the beach crowded. They discovered one stand that still had its wheel, and Jan leaped over the low barrier, beginning a mock spiel that echoed across the sand while Linda laughed. He ducked behind the wall and came up with a stained, badly torn towel whose color had vanished and flourished it over his head, cajoling her, winking, leering, trying to make her place a bet.

“Come on, lady, don’t be afraid. Everybody wins, everybody wins at the wheel. No tricks, no gimmicks, everybody wins and that’s a fact. Place your bets and say a prayer, whammy that wheel and everybody wins. Don’t be afraid. It’s only a game.”

Finally she pulled off her ring, her father’s ring, and placed it firmly on a faded number—there were only four. Jan spun the wheel, never stopping for a breath, shouting for the ghosts to come and watch the winner. The chattering made no sense, and faded into the sounds of a roller coaster and the sharp odors of over-spiced pizza and underdone hamburger. The wheel spun, clattered and stopped, paused and fell back one number.

She lost, but he bowed gallantly and returned the ring, winking and saying the game was fixed. It always was.

There were one or two stands still squatting in the cold ashes, but they stopped again only when they reached the huge, glassless double doors on the central arcade.

“How about a ride?” Jan asked, taking her by the arm.

Linda stared through the gashes of sunlight that drove shadows from the corners, and nodded. Inside the building the pinball machines lay crushed against the wall, and the floor, though gaping in spots, was cleared of debris. It looked like a mined church.

“I did it the first day I was here,” he said before she could ask. “The other places I didn’t much care about.”

The carousel was empty, its multicolored umbrella caved in and black. A tiny stirrup hung by a scrap of leather from a rust-locked metal support. Gently he took her hand in his and led her to the wheel. There was only one seat, a cage, left on the rim, and she balked when he tried to bring her closer. Jan frowned, then went to the large lever at the wheel’s base and, grunting, pulled it noisily toward him. An ear-shattering screech whipped through the building as the big machine shuddered, then lurched forward, and the cage disappeared through the mouth of the roof and into the washed-out sky. Linda hugged herself tightly as she watched the metal arms with no hands, and the metal hand with the basket. She started when he put an arm timidly around her waist, but followed his pointing finger.

“It’s the only one left, but really very safe. No kidding. They have generators. I think I told you already.” She remained silent and he pulled her forward, talking all the time. “Sorry I couldn’t do anything about the lights, but the bulbs are all smashed. It’s not as smooth as it once was, but it works. Ugly damn thing, isn’t it?”

“No,” she said, trying to look at Jan and the cage at the same time. “No, Jan, it’s beautiful.”

“Then ride with me. Please? I won’t try anything. I promise.” He grinned. “I don’t think I could even if I wanted to.”

Linda turned and touched his cheek with her hand. “I know you won’t, Jan, but what if the engines—”

“They won’t, believe me. There’s enough fuel left for more than a dozen rides. Come on, take three with me and I promise we’ll get right off. No funny stuff. Okay?”

“Why not?” she said, then added softly, “It’s the best basket I can think of to go to hell in.”

“Okay, you ready? No, don’t stop it. Let’s jump in.”

She nodded and Jan ran to the wheel. When she followed, she could see that the cage door was missing as well as the wire in the windows. When it lumbered down again, she jumped first, pulling him in after her, then yanked the kerchief from her hair and threw it out the window. For a moment the sun blinded them and they gasped at the tidal rush of cold air.

On the first trip to the top the wheel jerked, swaying the cage, and she grabbed the sides in panic. But the ragged mouth of the roof swallowed them safely, and she leaned against Jan and watched the waves feed on the beach.

On the second trip she blinked . . . and saw the midway teeming with garish, neat, ill-dressed people gawking, eating, dragging half-asleep children. Dolls and unnaturally colored stuffed animals, candy apples and frozen melting custard were clutched to their chests while they were hypnotized by all the lights of the manmade night dream.

On the third turn Jan held her hand, saw what she saw . . . and baseball caps jammed down over pink ears, model planes, blue red white cotton candy, fringed holsters, shooting gallery with dripping gray candles and pockmarked ducks.

They had lost count of the revolutions when Linda suddenly leaned out the window while Jan held her waist and looked away. When it was over, she smiled weakly and he kissed her forehead while she cried.

Then the wheel shook and the boardwalk jarred, and they leaped from the cage when it reached the bottom.

Into the sunlight, and the people children games were gone.

They walked as far as they could away from the decaying amusement park, jumping to the beach only when there were gaps too wide to step over. Linda tripped over a loose plank, taking a long time to regain her feet while Jan walked on automatically, ignoring the splintering wood and damp sand.

Finally she lowered herself from the boardwalk and sat down. Jan dropped beside her, not touching her, and they watched the sun stretch their shadows to the water. The tide was out but the beach was still quite narrow, and quite deserted.

“Hey, Lin.” He twisted around until he faced her, his dark eyes mirroring the hollows of her drawn cheeks and temples. “Why did you come here? Tell me the truth, Lin. I can’t really explain it, but it’s important. I’ve got to know.”

She laughed tonelessly at the little-boy pleading from the fat-thin man’s face.

“The wheel, that’s all.”

“But why?”

“I don’t know, Jan. Maybe it’s because I liked being able to see miles and miles from the very top. It was better than an airplane because there’re no clouds. And the people, they’re funny, you know?”

Jan nodded seriously.

“And . . . well, it was like you would never stop when you went all the way around again and again like that; and there was the view too. The people would never be the same every time you saw them.” She clasped her hands in her lap and stared at them. “Sometimes someone would look ‘way up and point at you and laugh. I always laughed and pointed back, like I was shooting a cowboy gun or something.”

“I always stuck out my tongue. My brother . . . my brother told my dad about it once and he . . .” Jan clapped his hands and winced. “Linda, are you awfully tired?”

“Not awfully. Not yet anyway.”

“Would you like to go on a trip? I know where we can ride the biggest damn, excuse me, ferris wheel in the whole world. Well, at least the biggest one I’ve ever been on.”

She stared, not understanding, her eyes taking on the fear she had had when they first met. “But how can we, Jan?”

“It’s a secret.”

She shook her head hard. “No, Jan! I don’t want any secrets, not anymore.”